A compilation of my little RP drabbles and short stories
by Brownfur
Summary: Just a few of my little drabbles/short stories with my RP OCs
1. Elder's Den - Birchflank tells a story

"So, you wanted to hear a story of mine? No? Yes? I don't care, I'll tell you one anyway." The old tom happily squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking of what story to tell this time. Perhaps I could tell them the story of how one of my kits got stuck in a tree? Yes, that's a good one. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, not because he needed to, but because he felt it was necessary before any story was told. "Back when I was a young warrior," He began. "(okay, maybe I wasn't a young warrior, but it sure felt like it!) I think this was my mate and I's fifth litter, we had a feisty little kit, Hazelkit he was, though you may have known him as Hazelheart, he was fine warrior, eh? He always stuck his nose in places he new it didn't belong. One day, little Hazelkit went missing from the nursery overnight, as well as some of the other kits. My mate was yowling early in the morning, naturally, she woke up the whole clan before the sky has lightened up; think of all the grumpy warriors! Of course, they forgave her as son as they found out what was wrong. We searched all over the camp for the missing kits, and before we had even caught a glimpse of the sun, the kits came strolling in through the camp entrance, you could have imagined ow infuriated we were. But there was one kit missing from the band of explorers. They admitted that they only came back because Hazelkit had gotten himself stuck high up in tree. A patrol of warriors, including my mate and I, of course, set out to go find Hazelkit, and soon enough, we found him, and he was indeed, stuck high up in a tree. We warriors were nervous to climb so high, for the branches got thinner and weaker the close to the top, we weighed so much more than the silly little kit. From where we were standing, he just looked like a little grey smudge in the tree. "I volunteered to go rescue my foolish son, I climbed halfway up to him, and he lost his grip from his precarious perch. No, he didn't exactly fall down the tree, he just flipped and flopped from branch to branch, down the young oak tree. Soon he was within my grasp, and I caught him. I have to admit, I nearly fell when I suddenly had to carry that extra weight, but I managed. He was very frightened by that near death experience, and didn't speak until the sun had set, and you know what the little scrap said? He said: "The clans are so big! I swear, I could see RiverClan's camp from up there! I felt like I was a bird!" He sure was a silly little kit..." 


	2. A Mother's Sorrow

A she-cat with a star-dusted cream pelt dipped her paw into a pool, as if she were trying to touch a fish. Her deep blue eyes gazed down through the starry puddle, past it's bottom, and into the world of the living. Song's stare was fixated on a ShadowClan apprentice, who looked very much like the StarClan cat. The apprentice, Lilypaw, was Song's daughter. Though the young ShadowClan cat had never met her mother, aside from the few moments after she was birthed, therefor she wouldn't have recognized her even if she saw her. Song had spent her whole life, wandering aimlessly, trying to find a purpose, until one day, she encountered the clan cats. She didn't trust them, but their way of life made sense, it gave each cat a purpose. Song had finally found something right in her life, and when she kitted Lily, that had to be the happiest moment ever. She didn't understand the intense love she had for the helpless, mewling kit, she only knew she loved her dearly, and then she was taken away from her. Song didn't deal well with her own death, having to watch her daughter grow up, not even having the slightest clue that her mother wasn't the one who had nursed her in her early moons, cheered her name loudest for her apprentice ceremony. The beautiful she-cat felt an empty space growing deeper and bigger in her chest. She wanted to be with her kits. Sure, she was with her kits, but they would never grow, they would never earn a warriors name, or even an apprentices name. Song wanted nothing more than to be alive once again, watch her kits grow into fine warriors... Song looked deeper into the pool, studying her daughter's sleepy face. She felt a lump grow in her throat, she couldn't hold back a grief induced wail. The sound was so pitiful, so loud, you'd think someone would come see what was wrong; but no. Song had trapped herself away from the others, she couldn't bear looking at them, they were what her kits could never be. She wailed for what seemed like hours, and once she had emptied her heart out, she numbly wandered away from the puddle. 


	3. Mothstar's Final Day

I shifted in my comfortable mossy nest as a gentle beam of sunlight filtered through the gaps between the dead vegetation and branches that made up the roof and walls of the clan leader's den, my den. The muffled yet gleeful squeals of playful kits roused me from my slumber. I winced as I slanted my eyes open to discover that a little ray of the sun's precious light was shining into one of my amber eyes, momentarily blinding me. As I stiffly sat up, I could feel the tips of my pale orange ears barely graze the lair's low ceiling. I gingerly stepped out of my lair to welcome the fresh and warm morning. I let out a quiet little purr, as I could now see the young plump kits that had awoken me, the three little scraps of black and white fur were tumbling over one another in order to establish who should be the almighty 'Pinecone Slayer'. Their mother fondly gazed at them from the overfilled fresh-kill pile, where she had been sharing tongues with ThunderClan's only elders, Mousefang and Beechstripe. ThunderClan is truly one of the best clans to pledge allegiance to, with a plentiful amount of prey in the broadleaved forest, and some of the friendliest cats ever, but they wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice their own safety to save or help any other clan mate. Some warriors were returning from a dawn patrol when I opened my mouth to better smell the hot new-leaf air. My whiskers twitched as a flood of scents rushed into my head: mouse, squirrel, cats, herbs, leaves, and new life. This was good for ThunderClan, for we had had a hard leaf-bare, leaving our warriors with jutting bones and short tempers, I was among the warriors with that. My bones could still easily be visible beneath my short buff pelt, this worried our medicine cat, I was on my final life, my ninth life. My breath slightly hitched at the thought of having to leave my beloved clan mates. My body wasn't as it used to be, my once youthful and energetic steps were now pained and clogged with arthritis. My eyesight wasn't as good as it was, nor were my reflexes, I remember being able to see all the way to the other end of the moors, and now I have a troubled time looking to the other end of the camp. I used to be an amazing fighter and hunter too, but since my reflexes are not as sharp, I can't make my limbs swipe and spring in the perfect moment, my movements are now greatly delayed; it seems my only values are now my wisdom, knowledge, and my good judgement that I have acquired over the many moons that I have lived. A voice calls me out of my internal dialogue, and I try to locate who it is, or where it's coming from, but I soon realize that it doesn't matter. They were warning me of a loose boulder tumbling down the side of ThunderClan's camp wall, it had a beeline for me. The loose greyish stone made a deafening clattering sound as it fell down, my heart must have skipped a beat or two when I realized I was in grave danger. My ears flattened down tight against my fur covered scalp, my sandy tabby fur stood on end, it felt like it might jump from my skin, my eyes widened to the size of the full moon and my mouth gaped open in a soundless yowl. Every nerve in my body was screaming for me to make a brisk dash for my dear life, but my muscles were locked, they ignored my mind's orders. The shrieks of the other cats and the reverberating blaring noise of the boulder hitting the stone walls were muffled by the whooshing of the blood pulsing in my ears and the flighty and unsteady beat of my heart as my certain doom neared me. Every second seemed to last an eternity, yet it all happened so quickly. Before I knew it, the taupe stone crashed into me, a blinding pain coursed through my body, then everything went black. That was my last day of being Mothstar, leader of ThunderClan.


End file.
